


Welcome Back

by heroictype (swanreaper)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, Homecoming, M/M, carlos week, post-70B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanreaper/pseuds/heroictype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos waits at the afterparty for Cecil. In the meantime, he meets a few old friends, reconnects with his community, and confirms his decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Back

Carlos, feeling somewhat at a loss, wandered around the afterparty. Someone had handed him a glass when he arrived, and he'd set it down on some convenient surface in favor of clasping his hands and teasing his fingertips together. He kind of wondered if he should have found a coaster, but that was the sort of absent thought that came when the rest of his brain was being unfriendly and something wasn’t right.

There were some options. The space was warm, dimly lit, and impossibly huge. A few years ago, he would have thought that a space had to be possible to maintain a physical presence and be occupied by human beings. Now, he knew better.

So, that wasn't what made him uncomfortable.

There were also too many people present. Faces faded away into smudges at a distance that shouldn't have been so far. The crowd blurred. That was unpleasant, in that it would probably give him a headache in return for whatever attention he devoted to the issue.

But since that wasn't his main concern, either, he didn't stare too long into the void. He focused on his cell phone, instead. Giving Cecil another call seemed like the best option, and as he held the tiny communication device to his ear, he didn't notice the cluster of school-age children around him.

One of them spoke. She said his name, with a supplement that attracted his attention and informed him of the speaker immediately.

"Uncle Carlos! Hi! When did you get here?"

"Hi, Janice! Oh, just... a little while ago." He wasn't certain, actually. He only knew it had been too late to see the opera. It would probably have been too late to get tickets at all, anyway. He continued, "I've missed you guys. How are your parents doing?"

"They're good! Hey, listen... um, I don't know how long you're staying, so I want to give you this..." She pulled forward a bag hanging off her chair and dug around in it. He waited patiently, and silently. In the end, she pulled out a cut piece of construction paper. It was coated in glitter. She offered it up to him, and he accepted it.

"Thank you," he said. He opened the card. Inside, in bright purple marker, it said, "Please come to my birthday party!" and in pen underneath, but the same handwriting, it listed an address, date, and time. Then there was marker again, to sign "Janice" and add a smiley face. "Aww! Thank you, Janice! Of course, we'll come to your party!"

She had been waiting expectantly for his reaction, and judging by how she perked up, it was acceptable. But she pressed, "Both of you, right? I know you won't be staying here, and I wasn't sure how to mail it... I would've figured something out, or given it to Uncle Cecil tonight, but since you're here, I hope it's okay just giving it to you. Please try to come back?"

_I know you won't be staying here..._

"We'll definitely be there, Janice. In fact..." He cleared his throat. "I don't think it'll even be a long trip. I mean, scientifically speaking, space can be as weird as time, and arguably neither exists, but... Well, space within Night Vale is easier to traverse than space between Night Vale and the Dog Park."

"Oh. So..." She frowned, as she drew a conclusion from his words, but her lips twitched. A potential, hopeful smile already waited there.

"I need to talk to Cecil. But we might not be moving after all," he said gently.

It depended on what Cecil wanted. Determining that was priority number one. Carlos knew well about the _concerns_ Cecil had developed about Night Vale itself, and these were perfectly valid.

Still, he hoped Cecil would listen to him. He came back for a reason. He came back to be home. If Cecil decided home wasn't Night Vale anymore, then they'd leave again, together this time, and Carlos would be okay with that. As long as they were together.

Walking through the Dog Park gate arm in arm would be different from waiting in a house that didn't exist. It would be unlike marching into a desert otherworld with no scientific evidence for what kind of situation he found himself in, only knowing that he couldn’t wait for someone to let him out. Only knowing that something had gone terribly wrong.

It would be the opposite scenario of staring at a closed oak door, worn from age, and feeling like a rejected tissue sample. In front of him, a door sealed shut tightly, before he could even shout for them to _wait_. He had whispered the word, instead, through a lump in his throat that was more than just inhaled sand.

He had reached out to touch the door, because he was human and human beings were good at opening doors. It was what they did. It vanished under his fingertips, like it had never existed. Like some houses couldn’t scientifically be found to exist. Like some homes, in other deserts.

"...and, and there will be balloons, but Dad promised he'd pay extra to stop any clowns from coming! So it'll be super fun! Make sure you write down the time, okay?" She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I know Uncle Cecil's not the best at planning."

He snapped back to reality, or whatever layer of illusion he usually dwelled on, and nodded solemnly. "Oh! Right. Don't worry, I will. I promise."

"Great! I'm gonna go find mom and tell her Uncle Cecil's maybe not moving. She's been kinda upset about it."

She began to wheel away, but Carlos called out, louder than the space between them needed and the surrounding company wanted. "Wait! Oh, sorry... I didn't mean to bug you..." He apologized to a small group of partygoers wearing fox-masks who had glared at him, then turned back to Janice. "Have you seen Cecil? I... haven't been able to find him."

She looked around the room herself, then back over her shoulder at him, and shook her head. "Sorry, Uncle Carlos. I haven't seen him since the opera ended."

"Okay. Well, thank you, anyway. And Janice? I'm really looking forward to your birthday party."

She grinned at him, and disappeared into the crowd, presumably in search of Abby and Steve. Maybe he’d said too much, but he wondered if she would be able to find them. He wondered if he'd be able to find Cecil, in this distorted space. Still, it meant something that he had found Janice, if only to him. In the private narrative his mind wove together to process events that were only chemicals and molecules dancing, absent of consciousness, Janice existed. Here in Night Vale, he had a… a niece, yes, his niece, who wanted him to come to her birthday party.

He longed for clipboard. It would have felt so much better to write down the evidence, and read it back. All he could do was remember, and while it was fresh now, one day, it wouldn’t be.

Already, time passed.

* * *

It would be nice to sit down, he thought. Or rather, he consciously forced himself to acknowledge this truth. He'd had to walk quite a ways just to reach the edge of the Dog Park, after all.

He tried to find the edge of the room. He hoped to find a chair there, as it was scientifically more likely to find seating near the walls, where people looking for quiet or a break from dancing would be out of the way of the more enthusiastic partygoers or devoted cultists. As he went, he saw more familiar faces. He smiled at Leann Hart, and waved at Janice Rio, from down the street.

He saw the Erikas before he saw Old Woman Josie, and then they were all right in front of him, but his gaze was immediately drawn downward to the elderly lady.

She had a mischievous smile, the kind that said she was too old to care about upsetting anyone, and the glint in her eyes defied the angle of lighting in the room. She wore a long, elaborate gown and two strings of pearls.

"Hi, Josie!" Carlos gasped. "Oh, gosh, you look great! I'm so, so sorry I couldn't make it to the opera. I'm sure it was amazing!"

If he’d come a few hours sooner, perhaps he could given Cecil a date for the evening. Cecil had asked Carlos not to tell him anything about the opera; the radio host wanted it to be a surprise, and he wanted his review to have the same unbiased ignorance of anything about opera that the rest of Night Vale had. It was, after all, one of the last nights he thought he would share with the community.

Carlos would have loved to see it with his boyfriend, as much to watch Cecil as the performance. Every smile, every gasp of wonder, and they could have held hands at the gory parts. They could have already been dancing right now.

He was privately grateful when Josie laughed. “Thank you! It was, it was! But don’t worry about it now. We’re here to celebrate, not lament. After tonight’s success, there will be other productions.” She waved a hand, as if negativity were a mere cloud of gnats around her. “You being here, now, that’s reason enough to celebrate, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I’m not sure how long I’m staying. I really, really need to find Cecil.”

“You will,” said one of the Erikas.

“You should,” said the other, as if to correct the first.

Carlos wanted to ask what that meant. “Should” could be an imperative of sorts - did he have an obligation to find Cecil, in addition to a desire? “Should” could also simply mean that while he ought to do it, he might not. A speculative future. Both were scientifically accurate interpretations, with layers of meaning that made him bite his lip, but only one could be right.

Josie noted his expression, and waved her hand again, as if the winged beings behind her were also merely gnats. “Don’t listen to old Erika. They’re just trying to impress you. Anyway, what do you mean, you don’t know how long you’re staying?”

“I mean what I said. My words communicated what I meant for them to, with no hidden meanings. Words can do that, too,” he pointed out. “But if you want more information, I can add: Cecil and I might not be moving. That’s why I need to talk to him. I need to ask him about it.”

“Huh. I thought that was pretty much all signed off on?” Josie said, crossing her arms and setting her shoulders back slightly.

“So did I. We talked about it… We talked a lot. We talked a lot about so many things, and that was one of them, just one. And in all those things we talked about, I think we missed something important.”

Josie tilted her head, and her smile didn’t physically shift, but it somehow gained a knowing cast. “So that’s the thing you need to ask him about.”

Carlos nodded. She reached forward, and patted him on the arm. “Well, for what it’s worth… I hope you stay. Bowling league won’t be - hasn’t been - the same without you two. You’re such a sweet young couple.”

The twinkle in Josie’s eye flickered. Carlos coughed, and buried a smile in the sleeve of his lab coat. “O-oh… I mean… That’s accurate, yes. I love him a lot. I really want to see him? Find him,” he babbled again. “If you find him, um, let me know?”

“Of course, I will. I was already planning on it.” She nodded sagely. “I’m glad you met him… For both of your sakes’, Carlos. It means something that you gave our little town a chance. It’s a good place to call home.”

“I know. I missed being here.”

“I’m not surprised.” Josie crossed her arms, glowing with pride in the place, as much as the dark glow radiated by the beings behind her.

“You’re not?”

“Why are you surprised by _that_? It’s my hometown.”

“Yes, but… for someone who’s not, it’s not always the most…”

“That’s not what you were saying a minute ago, is it?”

Carlos paused, and sucked in his cheek. What was he trying to say?

What he did say was, “I like it. It’s my home now. Or it might be. It could be. It depends what happens when I find… But you know about that, and anyway, it’s personal, and not scientific, but then I guess all of this is… It’s hard to find a home, isn’t it? That’s true, anywhere. Unless you were born there, unless you’ve got ready-made roots. But human beings are very different from plants. I’m a scientist. I know that. If we find ourselves somewhere inhospitable, or even just need to be somewhere else, no one kind will come along to dump new soil all over our feet. I mean, I know people do that sometimes, but it just makes a mess.”

“Okay,” was all Old Woman Josie said, but she was leaning forward, her posture attentive and her gaze curious. Carlos couldn’t deny her a conclusion.

“Listen, I’m getting away from the point. The point _is,_ I haven’t actually had a home in a very long time. And now, I have options. That’s so weird! But the deciding factor has nothing to do with physical space, and everything to do with who is occupying that space. Does that make sense?”

There were places, in the sense that some places did seem to exist more definitively than Night Vale, where Carlos had lived. He hadn’t thought much about the places. He had come to do experiments, completed the experiments, and departed. No one had asked him about the experiments, about his interests, or - when push came to shove - about his hair.

“I don’t think it answers the question I asked, but it makes sense. Thanks.” Josie closed her eyes, and nodded again. “If it helps, I can promise you tickets for our next production. C’mon, who can turn down free tickets, right? You make sure to tell Cecil that, okay?”

“I’ll let him know,” Carlos promised, smiling slightly.

“Good. You do that. Now, I have to go socialize or mingle, or whatever it is that a high-class producer is supposed to do. You have a good time. It's a party! Get yourself something to drink.”

She winked at him and walked off, beckoning the Erikas after her. The tall creatures leaned down, and she whispered something to them. The last thing he heard of her before she disappeared into the crowd was her soft laughter.

When she was gone, he turned in the opposite direction. It would be awkward to run into her again immediately, right? Not that he didn’t like her, but parties had their own etiquette that defied scientific reasoning.

* * *

He gave up on locating a chair, but he did reach one end of the room, or car, or wherever he was. He leaned against the wall, and flicked through his contact list. Each time, he came back to the top. “AAA Cecil,” listed as such so that he would always be alphabetically available. He hit the dial button again, but like all of his previous trials, it went straight to voicemail. Cecil’s phone was either off or dead.

He didn’t know what that meant. Or rather, it meant that Cecil’s phone was off or dead, but he didn’t know the _why_ behind that fact. He didn’t bother checking the time; he could tell it wouldn’t mean anything. His internal clock suggested that hours had passed, but that had never been a reliable metric when he was anxious.

He could only wait, as he’d been doing. Not a very scientific solution.

Then a voice, almost right in his ear, said, “Carlos?”

He jerked about two feet to the left, his eyes wide, but he smiled when he saw who it was. “Dana! Hi! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine now,” she said gently. “Now, I’m fine. I’m surprised to see you, though. After Cecil was so angry.”

“Oh. Yeah, I heard about that. I’m sorry, I tried to talk to him…”

Not that it had done much good. It didn’t make sense for Dana to have manipulated Cecil in that way, or in any way. It went against all the evidence he had, that Dana was a responsible and reliable friend. But sometimes, Cecil was stubborn, and that was using such a delicate description that the radio host himself would have to appreciate it.

“You don’t need to apologize. You didn’t do anything.”

“I know, I know. Just… We’ve talked about it. Cecil and I. About you. Oh-” He looked away, bit his lip, and forced air through the space between his teeth. “And no, I didn’t do anything… Maybe if I’d really tried to come back sooner, I-”

“I appreciate you making the effort,” she said, with a firm nod to forestall any further argument or blame. “I’m sorry if this isn’t the welcome you wanted. Some way to greet a hero, right?”

“No, look, really, it’s fine! I’m not… I’m just a scientist, and I know words in Night Vale change definitions all the time and, as the mayor, you have some control of that, but it’s _really_ not the same thing. Trust me. I know, since I _am_ a scientist.” By the end of his protest, Carlos had folded his arms over his chest. His fingers dug into the fabric of his lab coat, plucking it away from one arm.

“Well, whatever you are, we’re glad to have you back,” she told him smoothly. “I missed you. We all did. Would you mind a hug?”

He nodded. They embraced briefly, but tightly, and Carlos remembered his first days in the Desert Otherworld. If not for Dana, he might not be here at all; there were many scientific ways to die in the desert without aid, like dehydration and exposure. He smiled back at her. “I’m sorry. You know, everyone keeps saying that…”

She considered him briefly, then asked, “Keeps saying what?”

“Oh, just that they missed me.”

She paused, then offered, “Yes?”

“Yes? Yes,” Carlos confirmed. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Carlos… Whether you’re a hero or not - and I maintain that you are, even though it may not be using a personal, rather than scientific, definition - you are an important member of our community. One of my citizens. People from your community miss you when you’re gone.” Dana  Whatever Cecil says, wherever you go… If you ever need a home, both of you will always be welcome here. This can be home for you, whenever you want to drop your heart off.”

Carlos straightened, and brought his hands together in front of his chest, every inch of him earnest and well-meaning. “Oh, I know! But thank you.  But that’s not what I’m worried about. I need to… Well. That’s what I want. It’s nice to know that other people want it, too.”

“We do. I do. Stop by city hall sometime, okay?” She sighed. “I know it’s dangerous. You don’t have to. But it’s always nice to see a friendly face.”

“I can imagine. You… haven’t had a very good year, either. I’ll stop by to talk sometime, okay?” He told her, meaning it as a promise, but without using that exact language. There were no guarantees.

She understood, anyway. “Please.”

He cleared his throat, “Anyway, I need to ask… Have you seen Cecil? I really need to talk to him about something. It’s very urgent.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. He was delayed. There was a bit of a kerfuffle at the opera…” She focused on something over his shoulder, and nodded. “But it looks like he made it.”

Carlos turned to see what she was looking at, although he already knew who it would be. The name was in his head. He turned and saw his boyfriend, talking to their family. Janice had apparently found Steve and Abby after all, and she was chattering excitedly to Cecil.

The scientist thought about interrupting her. He thought about closing the distance between them, about seeing Cecil’s face, about how they’d seen each other a month ago, but time really had to be a fallacy, because it already felt like it had been a year again. He needed to hold this man, he really did; every cell in his body wanted every cell in Cecil’s body close. Thought shouldn’t even have been possible on that level, but there he was, aching with it. His mouth opened, but he was thinking too deeply about these things to say anything.

Then, he heard his name. He shouldn’t really have been able to see Cecil tense from where he was standing, but he knew what to look for - the shifting shoulders, the taut back. Cecil lifted his head, and swung around to start the motion of turning. Carlos was already stepping forward.

Cecil started to say something, and so did Carlos, but human language wasn’t equipped to handle a moment like this.

Instead, they met in a tangle of arms, expanding lungs, and overwhelmed minds. Carlos breathed in this warm, living human being that had come to represent strangeness, discovery, laughter - this one individual who he had shared a greater number of new experiences with than anyone else - this one man who meant _home._

He was so in love. Oh, God. Anyone who talked about love as chemicals as if it detracted from the value of the emotion didn’t know anything about science.

He held Cecil, and Cecil held him back, and finally, Carlos took a breath, and began to speak into his boyfriend’s ear. They had to talk about home.

* * *

Eventually, the party ended, and the car dropped them off right in front of their apartment. In fact, it dropped them off inside of the hallway outside their door before driving away. Cecil waved, laughing, and then threw an arm around Carlos’ shoulder.

“Wasn’t that so thoughtful, dear? Taxis are so expensive, and really, who wants to deal with jackalopes at this time of night?”

“I don’t,” Carlos agreed.

“I know, right?” Cecil paused to squish his face against the scientist’s and nuzzle him. Carlos laughed, and squeezed his arm around Cecil’s waist. The radio host continued, “Just a second…”

He started to dig around in his pocket for the key, but Carlos shook his head.

“I’ve been waiting for this!” Carlos pulled his own key from where it had rested for months in an otherwise-empty pocket of his lab coat. No clutter, no fuss. He was ready to lie down. He unlocked the door, and Cecil gave him a kiss on the cheek as he pushed it open.

“Thanks, sweetie. Now…”

“Bed. Please,” Carlos said. He didn’t know how long he’d been awake, or if he had dimensional gate-lag. He knew even less than he usually did. Only that he was tired, and he missed his bed. Their bed. The comforter had cats on it. They’d had a good time picking it out, even though cashier got blood all over the packaging.

They didn’t bother turning on the lights, although even with Cecil leading the way, Carlos found himself stepping over takeout containers and at one point wading through what appeared to be a small puddle of socks shortly past the shoe rack.

“Sorry.” Cecil coughed. “I’ve been, uh, a little tired lately.”

Carlos patted his arm. “It’s okay, honey. We both need some rest. We’ll clean up tomorrow, though.”

In the bedroom, there was an immediate shedding of clothes, save for boxers. Carlos let himself fall back onto the bed, and buried his face in that of a particularly happy cat-shape that lacked the spines on its silhouette. Cecil sat down on the edge of the mattress by his feet, and ran his hand over the scientist’s leg. Sometimes, the contact mattered more than the shape it took.

Soon, however, his fingers settled on a series of lumps and lines that dotted the scientist’s skin, particularly below his knees. Cecil ran his thumb over one of the scars absently. Tiny scars.

“It… doesn’t hurt, does it?” He asked, his voice softened by a concern that bordered on fear. The possibility of loss lingered there, in those marks.

“No. Not for like… a really long time,” Carlos said. He playfully nudged Cecil’s knee with his toes. “I’m fine. A scientist is usually fine, like I said.”

“Good. I don’t want - I want to stay here with you. I want you to want to stay, too.” Cecil dropped back next to Carlos, and buried his face against the scientist’s shoulder. He smelled like someone who’d been without modern hygiene supplies for a while, but Cecil didn’t care. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why that, of all things, is so hard to say.”

“It’s science. Emotions add weight to words, so they break more easily.”

“Words are very fragile things,” Cecil agreed. “But you know what? I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time now… I love you, Carlos.”

“You never stopped saying it…" Carlos stroked his boyfriend's cheek. "I understand what you’re saying now, but I wanted to remind you of that, too, because I’m grateful you didn’t stop. And I want to say, I love you, too. I love you, Cecil Gershwin Palmer. My Ceec.”  
  
He rolled over, and fitted himself against Cecil, who wrapped his arm around the scientist tightly. That night - nearer to morning by then - it didn’t take either of them long to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was for day 3 of Carlos Appreciation Week. "Home in Night Vale." It's, um, a bit late. I may have bitten off more than I could chew. But it was interesting to write and I hope that it gets across the point of "Carlos definitely belongs here, and he and Cecil aren't the only ones who think that now."


End file.
